by Tao Wong
Chapter 11
“This is not scalable,” Mikito says, arms crossed as she eyes the eleven Combat Classers arrayed before us.
Unsurprisingly, the majority of the Combat Classers have normal non-prestige Classes, mostly in the melee and direct combat forms. It’s one of the inherent disadvantages for many of these guys—even if they’re guided by their parents, their options of achieving the necessary requirements for a prestige Class are nearly non-existent. On top of that, outside of the most basic long-range weaponry, it’s hard to scale-up damage at the low Levels with crap tech weaponry. Tech at the higher levels requires a large influx of funds, access to the right people to build the weapon and equipment, and even more Credits to pay for the replacements. It’s why melee and magic continue to dominate, except for certain groups like the Erethrans. Still, at least we have a pair of healers. But, of course, none of that is why Mikito is complaining.
“No, it’s not,” I agree with the Samurai. Only two of us here, so there’s only so many people we can run through, especially with the slots we have. “But thank you for coming anyway.”
“Ummm…” A short and busty woman comes up, her ears curved and overly large. She’s an “elf” as per Japanese mangas, not like the Lord of the Rings movies. Being that she’s so much shorter than me and wearing something way too low-cut, I’m getting quite an eyeful. Weird that there are so many variations on the elf idea, from Truinnar to Movanna to whatever she is. “Are we really going into this dungeon?”
“Yup. You guys need Levels more than combat experience,” I say, eying the group again. A little piece of downloaded knowledge lets me estimate their ages, and what I’m seeing is a bunch of late teens or early twenty-year-olds. Which makes their single-digit Levels pitiful. “So we’re going to get you those Levels.”
“But, ummm…” Again, the woman looks at the dungeon entrance. “That’s a Level 20 dungeon.”
“Twenty to thirty, yup.” I flash her a grin, which does nothing to reassure the woman. But that’s fine. “All right, everybody. I don’t care how you all divide yourself, except you healers. One each on me and Mikito. We’re going in in five.”
“Five seconds!” yelps one of the healers.
“Minutes!” Ali corrects.
As the group shuffles and prods one another, trying to divide themselves into a roughly equal split, I’m surprised by the results. Everyone wants to go with Mikito, which is a big and slightly hurtful revelation. I’m frowning, trying not to remind myself of dodgeball practice in grade ten, when I hear footsteps approaching. A turn of my head shows an interesting group of a half-dozen Adventurers coming up to us, arms crossed.
“And who says you’re going in?” The speaker is rotund, bulbous like a beetle on hind legs. The fact that he’s flanked by a frost giant mage makes me raise an eyebrow.
“Pretty sure that’d be the Irvina Dungeon Control,” I say. “This is our slot and time. Cleared it all already.”
“With those scum? You going to run a train for those vermin?” The rather high pitch that the beetle speaks in makes my ear hurt. I ignore Beetlejuice’s Status, knowing I won’t recall it.
“Yup. Mikito, you guys go first,” I say.
The Samurai doesn’t even give me a second glance, waving her group onward. As the troublemakers try to block them, Ali finishes a silent cast of Metal Walls, putting the metallic obstruction in their way.
“What are you doing?” Beetlejuice clicks, his friends glancing at their leader. Tearing down the wall would be easy enough for them, but they’re hesitant to escalate the situation with violence.
“Well, I’m standing here in front of you. She’s going in,” I say. “And in about five minutes, we’re going in.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Or what?” I find myself grinning widely when I realize their threats are a bluff. They aren’t willing to anger the authorities. Physically escalating this is a losing proposition for them—with only a bunch of mid-stage Advanced Classers—and outside of that, their options are limited.
“You—”
“Oh, be quiet,” a familiar voice cuts over Beetle’s chirping. Wiza lopes forward from where he’s been hiding, the stealth Skill sloughing off his body as he becomes visible to everyone else. “I’ll deal with this.”
“Sorry,” Beetlejuice says and backs off.
“Well, about time you came out.” Not as if I hadn’t noticed him, but I am surprised to see him make his presence known.
Mikito has stopped by the gates, a hand resting on the polearm as she eyes the newcomer. Those behind her group together, looking wary.
“Any of you who enter the dungeon will face sanctions by my company and all others. If you have any debts, we’ll buy them. If any of you have family with debts, we’ll buy them. If you have friends, we’ll buy their debts too. And call the debts close immediately,” Wiza says with a vicious snarl. “If you own anything on lease, we’ll buy it. Your jobs, your families’ jobs, your friends’ jobs. They’ll all be lost.”
“You can’t do that!” the little elf lady says, bouncing worriedly. “That’s illegal!”
“Not the way we’ll do it. It’ll all be legal and above board. You think your contracts can’t be sold? Think again. We’ll buy them up and then consolidate everything for you,” Wiza says, his smirk growing. “Of course, there’ll be additional fees for all that, and penalties if you miss a payment. We’ll even give you all the warnings we have to to make sure that you can clear your debts. Properly.”
“We can’t afford to buy out our debts. If we could, we wouldn’t be here!” a Kobold says, his eyes wide as he grips the warped piece of metal he calls a mace.
“Exactly. Leave and we’ll forget all about this,” Wiza says.
“Sir…” The elf lady looks at me, giving me these big, imploring eyes.
I meet her gaze for a moment then sweep mine over the group, judging their resolve. A couple look bored, as if they’re not worried. Most have concern etched on their faces, fear too.
“And if you think we can’t stop you from leaving for Earth, you’re wrong,” Wiza says, smiling. “Anyone whose debt exceeds the primary threshold will find that we’re more than willing to enforce the ‘safe harbor’ clause.”
“Ali?”
“Primary threshold varies depending on the value and income amount of the individual. It’s a calculated threshold. But, umm, figure roughly around fifty thousand Credits. That allows the debtors to dictate that the debtees have to stay in ‘safe areas’ to safeguard the amounts owed.”
I grunt to indicate I got all that. I hadn’t expected this kind of problem, which is a big problem. I’m not sure how many people have that much debt—and it certainly seems pretty high to me—but it surely would cause significant problems. Still…
“Any of you who want to leave, go ahead. Let me know if you want to cancel your contracts too,” I say. Wiza grins, gloating over his win, but I ignore the Kobold. “But realize that these assholes? They aren’t going to stop pushing. Not now, not ever. Right now, you’re in the front of the queue to change your lives. You leave, and someone else, someone with less to lose, less debt, fewer ties will take your place. And you’ll lose your chance. Perhaps forever.”
It’s no St. Crispin’s Day speech, but I see some faces tighten in resolve. Others continue to waver, while a few actually step away, shaking their heads. I understand. It’s one thing to risk yourself, but your friends, your family? That requires a different kind of resolve, of bravery. Maybe even a lack of wisdom.
“Contact some of the others who signed up, especially those on the next run. Let them know what’s going to happen, have them start coming now if they intend to stay. Whoever gets here first gets to do two runs if they’re from the next batch.”
“On it, boy-o.”
We lose a good half of our people, ending up with just six. I send Mikito through with the remnants of the group and find my lips curling upward as Wiza takes note of those enteri
ng. I’m sure he’s busy making arrangements to make a mess of their lives. As a thought strikes me, I touch the band that makes my helmet appear so that I can hold my next conversation in privacy.
“Katherine.” Once the call connects to the lady, I fill her in.
She makes a face. Neither of us expected this particular method of persuasion. I admit, our inexperience at Galactic politics and how bare-handed they are is showing.
“Give me what time you can. I’ll think of something,” Katherine says.
While this might not cause too much problems for the middle-stage Combat Classers, it’s going to play havoc for our recruitment of Artisans. Those fellows generally have the greatest debts, as they need to make better and better items to Level up. No surprise that it drives them into debt. It’s workable debt, if you’re smart about it, but it’s debt. And while Combat Classers are nice, Artisans are where the volume is.
“Can do. Just don’t overdo it,” I say.
We’re still a new planet with a lot of programs that need financing. Just the spaceship tickets alone will be a huge drain on our resources. Even though the new residents of our Dungeon World will bring taxes, security, and new skills to the planet, that doesn’t mean those benefits appear immediately. We have a million and one programs drawing on our scarce resources, so we can’t afford to devote too many Credits to this. Immigration might be a net positive, but it could take years before we see the results of it.
“Tell me about it,” Katherine mutters. “I’m already getting an earful over the tickets.”
“Problem?” I mutter, moving away from Wiza.
“Just a lot of complaints. Some valid—our resources are tight—and some, well, xenophobic,” Katherine says. “Lots of NIMBYism going on too.”
“You sound exasperated,” I say.
Katherine makes a face. “It’s familiar territory, except this is just driven by fear and hate. At least when it came to oil pipelines and dams, there was a lot to be weighed on both sides. Here, it’s mostly just hate for the Galactics. It’s not as if we don’t have hundreds, thousands of empty towns. Never mind the millions of buildings and suburbs we need to take back.”
I don’t really know what to say. There is still a lot of anger and resentment over what happened, and much of that anger has pointed itself squarely at anything not human. There isn’t a lot of in-your-face speciesism, but the undercurrent of distrust and dislike is there. It’s not hard to understand, but it’s not particularly useful either. We need the bodies to help contain the Dungeon World. While it happens a lot less frequently, we still lose settlements to monster swarms and burgeoning, unchecked dungeons. And it’s not as if the vast majority of those who have arrived had anything to do with the choice to turn us into a Dungeon World. They’re just immigrants after the destruction. Opportunists at worst.
But still, the anger and resentment, the unwillingness to let go of the past infects us all. We’ve lost so much, and some it will never return. Cultural touchstones, languages, skills. All of it replaced by, well, the System and the Galactics. Is it any wonder that even the most enlightened are angry with the Galactics? Especially when they strut through our streets with their unconscious arrogance, some of them being blatant in their views of us as primitives?
Even when we want to use them for our purposes, it’s hard to forget that it was the Galactics who made the decision to kill ninety percent of us. That these alien species, watched and betted on the outcome, laughed and cheered at our tragedies and triumphs. Enlightened or not, it’s hard to forget our pain. Even if we know that some doesn’t mean all, even if the one you’re talking to is probably okay. And few of us are all that enlightened.
“Well, tell Lana I’m willing to use my investments on this,” I say.
Changing minds, changing hearts, that’s a job for someone else. Truth be told, I’m not that enlightened myself. I just found something bigger to hate. For now, all I can do is what I can. For now, building our world back up as fast as I can is my way of stabbing a thumb in the eye of those responsible. For now, fixing what was broken as best I can is how I can safeguard our world.
“Thank you, John.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I kill the call then, since the next group of recruited Combat Classers is arriving. Seeing the group of helpless newbies stagger, some looking eager, others worried, I’m reminded of a time not so long ago when I dragged out a group of humans. A spark of understanding flows through me as I stare at creatures of skin and chitin, of blue and brown coloration. Maybe we’re all just the same in the end.
We’re all ground down under the System equally.
“Well, go on then,” I say, sword resting idly on my shoulder as I nod toward the whale-like monster with its numerous-tentacled body in the water. Aggressive waving of its tail drive the monster toward us, tentacles waving as it charges our position.
Nima Whale (Level 23)
HP: 472/493
MP: 231/256
Conditions: Aquatic Mammal, Peerless Charge
The dungeon is a semi-aquatic one, which is partly why we could get in on such short notice. Aquatic dungeons are less preferred, since most Adventurers aren’t suited to handling them. The few aquatic races that are in the System generally hog the aquatic dungeons. In fact, because of their ability to run aquatic locations at a faster rate than the majority of species, the aquatic races have a higher proportion of high-Level Adventurers than land-based species. Thankfully, due to the lack of conflict as we take on different terrains, they generally get on well with us non-aquatics. It helps that the System deals with pesky things like land-based pollution, so many of the major clashes in living arrangements between our species is minimized.
There are two major ways of completing this particular dungeon, 6-8. Hard mode, which is currently being completed by Mikito and her group, means submerging oneself in the water and dealing with the more numerous monster threats in their environment. It’s good training and experience in abnormal environments, which is why this city has a few aquatic dungeons. I even hear there’s a sub-zero dungeon.
The other path to completion is the one we’re taking—the normal mode. This involves trekking across the dungeon via the floating platforms that dot the water. The platforms are somewhat unsteady, bobbing along in the water, and are not always connected. Occasionally, Adventurers have to either wait for platforms to float back to their correct position or take the quick swim to the next platform. Or fly. All of which adds to the fun.
“Shoot it!” Ali commands, having changed his clothing to a soldier’s camo uniform. “All of you. Yes, you. The one with the sling. What do you mean you don’t have a ranged weapon? What did you think you were going to do? Piss on it?”
Under the guidance of the Spirit, the group attacks. I watch with an amused expression as everything from slug throwers to slings and arrows lash out. The group even has a pair of beam rifles, though from the looks of it, they’re rather poor quality. Weapons burn and tear, making the whale dodge beneath the water.
“You. Take this.” Ali materializes and shoves my beam rifle into one melee fighter’s hands. “And you, this.” Next comes my pistol.
I grimace, making a mental note to get them back.
“You. Tank. Get ready for the wigglies,” Ali orders.
Under water, the whale makes its way to us and pops up at the last second, long tentacles waving and darting forward in an attempt to pluck people off the walkway. The Tank moves, blocking a pair of tentacles with his body and slicing apart another one with his double-sided polearm. Another tentacle slips past, wrapping around a body. Since this is the first battle of the dungeon, it’s a little too early to let one of them get dragged under. I lash out with a simple Blade Strike, cutting the tentacle off but leaving the monster mostly undamaged.
“You, Healer. What are you doing? Heal them!” Ali commands.
I step back, having done my part, and get back to watching. The group is significantly under-Leveled
here, but with Ali and I helping out and lending a little equipment-based aid, there shouldn’t be any issues.
“Why are you crying? You only lost half your health. Get back on your feet!” Ali roars. “Now kill that thing!”
“Ding?” I say, leaning around the large sasquatch-like Tank’s shoulder to stare into the empty space he’s focused on. Of course, I don’t see anything.
“Ding?”
“Human term,” I say, waving away Sasquatch’s confusion. “Did you Level?”
“Yes!” Sasquatch nods. “I was considering where to put my attributes and Skill point.”
“Nice. That’s always fun. Except for two things,” I say.
“Two things?”
“One. We’re in the middle of a dungeon, in the middle of a walkway where monsters appear. You’re on lookout. And have gotten distracted.”
Sasquatch does the furred equivalent of blush—blue eyes turning red and pink—before he blinks quickly and looks around desperately.
“And two. You should use the resources at your disposal fully.”
“Resources?”
“Me and Ali,” I say, pointing between us. “Well, mostly the Spirit. He’s got hundreds of years of experience under his belt.”
“But he’s your Companion,” Sasquatch protests.
I stare at the Sasquatch for a moment before raising my voice, deciding to make the damn announcement for everyone to hear. “Okay, people. If you go up in Levels, don’t allocate your points yet. Wait until we’re in a safe point. Or enough of you are ready that Ali and I will take over watch. Also, you should seriously consider talking to the Spirit and me. We might not be as good as dedicated guild advisors, but we’ve been around the block or two.”
“Or made a few blocks,” Ali says with a harrumph.
